ACT III.

SCENE, Bolingbroke's Camp at Briftol.

Enter Bolingbroke, York, Northumberland, Rofs, Percy, Willoughby, with Bushy and Green Prisoners.

BOLINGBROKE.

forth these men.

B Buy and Green, I will not vex your fouls

(Since prefently your fouls muft part your bodies).
With too much urging your pernicious lives;
For 'twere no charity: yet to wash your blood
From off my hands, here, in the view of men,
I will unfold fome causes of your deaths.
You have mif-led a Prince, a royal King,
A happy Gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you unhappy'd, and disfigur'd clean.
You have, in manner, with your finful hours
Made a divorce betwixt his Queen and him;
Broke the Poffeffion of a royal Bed,

And ftain'd the Beauty of a fair Queen's cheeks
With tears drawn from her eyes, with your
foul wrong
My felf, a Prince, by fortune of my birth,
Near to the King in blood, (and near in love,
Till you did make him mif-interpret me,)
Have ftoopt my neck under your injuries;
And figh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of Banishment:
While you have fed upon my Signiories;
Dif-park'd my Parks, and fell'd my foreft-woods;
From mine own windows torn my houfhold Coat;
Raz'd out my Imprefs; leaving me no fign,
Save mens' opinions, and my living blood,
To fhew the world I am a gentleman.

This, and much more, much more than twice all this.

Con

Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd
To execution, and the hand of death.

Bushy. More welcome is the ftroak of death to me;
Than Bolingbroke to England.Lords, farewel.
Green. My comfort is, that heav'n will take our fouls,
And plague injuftice with the pains of hell.~

Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. Uncle, you fay the Queen is at your house; For heav'n's fake, fairly let her be intreated; Tell her, I fend to her my kind Commends; Take special care, my Greetings be deliver❜d. York. A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd With letters of your love to her at large.

Boling. Thanks, gentle Uncle: come, my lords, away; (6)

A while to Work; and, after, Holy-day.

(6) Thanks, gentle Uncle; Come, my Lords, away,

To fight with Glendower and his Complices,

[Exeunt.

7

A while to Work, and after Holyday.] Tho' the inter mediate Line has taken poffeffion of all the old Copies, I have great Suspicion of its being an Interpolation; and have therefore ventur'd to throw it out. The first and third Line rhyme to each other; nor, do I imagine, This was cafual, but intended by the Poet. Were we to acknowledge the Line genuine, it must argue the Poet of Forgetfulness in his own Plan; and Inattention to Hiftory, of which he was most obfervant. Bolingbroke is, as it were, yet but juft arriv'd; He is now at Briftol; weak in his Numbers; has had no Meeting with a Parliament; nor is so far affur'd of the Succeffion, as to think of going to fupprefs Infurrections before he is planted in the Throne. Befides, we find, the Opposition of Glendower begins the First Part of K. Henry IV; and Mortimer's Defeat by that hardy Welfbman is the Tidings of the firft Scene of that Play. Again, tho' Glendower, in the very firft Year of K. Henry IV, began to be troublesome, put in for the Supremacy of Wales, and imprison'd Mortimer; yet it was not till the fucceeding Year, that the King employ'd any Force against him.

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Coast of Wales.

Flourish: Drums and Trumpets.

Enter King Richard, Aumerle, Bishop of Carlisle,

and Soldiers.

K. Rich. B Arkloughly cafle call you this at hand?

Aum. Yea, my good lord; how brooks
your Grace the air,

After your toffing on the breaking Seas?
K. Rich. Needs muft I like it well; I weep
To ftand upon my Kingdom once again.
Dear Earth, I do falute thee with my hand,

for joy

Though Rebels wound thee with their horfes' hoofs:
As a long-parted mother with her child

Plays fondly with her tears, and fmiles in meeting;
So weeping, fmiling, greet I thee my Earth,
And do thee favour with my royal hands.
Feed not thy Sovereign's foc, my gentle Earth,
Nor with thy fweets comfort his rav'nous fense:
But let thy fpiders that fuck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lye in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with ufurping fteps de trample thee.
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies;
And, when they from thy bofom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pr'ythee, with a lurking adder;
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy Sovereign's enemies.
Mock not my fenfeless conjuration, lords;
This Earth fhall have a Feeling: and these stones
Prove armed foldiers, ere her native King

Shall faulter under foul rebellious arms.

Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Pow'r, that made you
King,

Hath pow'r to keep you King, in fpight of all.
The means, that heaven yields, must be embrac'd,
And not neglected: else if heaven would,

And

Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd
To execution, and the hand of death.

Bushy. More welcome is the ftroak of death to me; Than Bolingbroke to England.Lords, farewel.

Green. My comfort is, that heav'n will take our fouls, And plague injuftice with the pains of hell.~

Boling. My lord Northumberland, fee them dispatch'd. Uncle, you fay the Queen is at your house; For heav'n's fake, fairly let her be intreated; Tell her, I fend to her my kind Commends; Take special care, my Greetings be deliver'd. York. A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd With letters of your love to her at large.

Boling. Thanks, gentle Uncle: come, my lords, a way; (6)

A while to Work; and, after, Holy-day.

(6) Thanks, gentle Uncle; Come, my Lords, away,

To fight with Glendower and his Complices,

[Exeunt.

A while to Work, and after Holyday.] Tho' the inter mediate Line has taken poffeffion of all the old Copies, I have great Sufpicion of its being an Interpolation; and have therefore ventur'd to throw it out. The firft and third Line rhyme to each other; nor, do I imagine, This was cafual, but intended by the Poet. Were we to acknowledge the Line genuine, it must argue the Poet of Forgetfulness in his own Plan; and Inattention to Hiftory, of which he was moft obfervant. Bolingbroke is, as it were, yet but just arriv'd; He is now at Briftol; weak in his Numbers; has had no Meeting with a Parliament; nor is so far affur'd of the Succeffion, as to think of going to fupprefs Infurrections before he is planted in the Throne. Befides, we find, the Oppofition of Glendower begins the First Part of K. Henry IV; and Mortimer's Defeat by that hardy Welfoman is the Tidings of the firft Scene of that Play. Again, tho' Glendower, in the very firft Year of K. Henry IV, began to be troublesome, put in for the Supremacy of Wales, and imprifon'd Mortimer; yet it was not till the fucceeding Year, that the King employ'd any Force against him.

SCENE

SCENE changes to the Coast of Wales.

Flourish: Drums and Trumpets.

Enter King Richard, Aumerle, Bishop of Carlisle,
and Soldiers.

K. Rich. B Arkloughly cafle call you this at hand?

Aum. Yea, my good lord; how brooks your Grace the air, After your toffing on the breaking Seas?

K. Rich. Needs muft I like it well; I weep for joy
To stand upon my Kingdom once again.
Dear Earth, I do falute thee with my hand,
Though Rebels wound thee with their horfes' hoofs:
As a long-parted mother with her child

Plays fondly with her tears, and fmiles in meeting;
So weeping, fmiling, greet I thee my Earth,
And do thee favour with my royal hands.
Feed not thy Sovereign's foc, my gentle Earth,
Nor with thy fweets comfort his rav'nous fense:
But let thy fpiders that fuck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lye in their way,
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with ufurping fteps de trample thee.
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies;
And, when they from thy bofom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pr'ythee, with a lurking adder;
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy Sovereign's enemies.
Mock not my fenfelefs conjuration, lords;
This Earth fhall have a Feeling: and these stones
Prove armed foldiers, ere her native King
Shall faulter under foul rebellious arms.

Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Pow'r, that made you
King,

Hath pow'r to keep you King, in fpight of all.
The means, that heaven yields, must be embrac'd,
And not neglected: elfe if heaven would,

And